Rhapsodies of Blood
by Nur Misurr
Summary: A twisted sanity to survive, for now. Rido/Juuri.


No copyright infringement intended: all Vampire Knight affiliations are rightfully reserved to _Hino Matsuri._

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><p>Summary: <em>A twisted sanity to survive, for now. RidoJuuri._

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><p><strong>Rhapsodies of Blood<strong>

And again, there's a caress of consciousness at his actions teething under a quiet black smoke of diluted thoughts. Her eyes shed an imperceptible solemnity from his touch. She looks willful, her strong jaw curves under soft lips as indigence congests in her haunted maroon irises. Today she stands in front of the mirror and gazes at curvaceous territories that used to be hers. And again, she tries to smile in the memory of when her body had been hers.

He weaves out of the shadows he controls, stealing blackness from the world to quell him-self with its wretchedness. He undulates and exhibits his physique. A gracefully tall structure hunched from the ceiling, only stable from shadows bleeding over the ground. The oscillations of his movement make her shy, until she radiates the quiver of her heart. Today he roots himself behind her back, a second layer of skin purchasing on her spine. She catches her breath at the sight of blue-red eyes.

And again, mesmerized by her sounds, by her smell, by her body, he is kept from words. She lets him undress her and sinks in the glory of when she was a babe, he'd attend to her. Her embodiment throbs in his palm, brightly vicious and burning like fire melting fingers. His broken lips twinge in a pained smile. He realizes again how much her body has grown. Sprouted like wild flowers in a field and trees in forest, bold but soft, pulsing with a life half lived and unlived.

He feels her tremble under his palms that glide around her thighs and waist. Her legs are firm as her shoulders are even. Once her chest was depressed and flush, now her breasts sag in his hands. Hips that weren't prominent before burgeoned to pleasing perches, and arms that were meager swayed like hooks on her sides. He touches her between her legs and vinculums with her dew. She burns brightly; her brilliance lances his shadow.

And again, they fumble to the bed, to the pinnacle of their percolated idolatry. Where their bodies merge in amity and tongues worship beyond the nadir of sustentation. Her hands disarm him of his bearing from shadow to man. She cradles his waist, claws down his sacrum. He makes no sound in their nakedness. His chest caroms her breasts and claws chisel their ownership on her ribs and thighs. Today he tastes the fire ricocheting within her ruby eyes. It glimmers intensely as they sear his, permeating his skin and dissecting his insides.

Like the fusion of blue and red, he was always something in between. From the shadows he called and discovered her like the sun proliferating the night. The unquenchable taste of salt water and the depths of her attachment were accrued. He let her explore him like the night bleeding into the day. Always was he twisted and equidistant, an incomparable half of the other, rejected and incomplete. He snuck through her fringes and there did completion transcend. Where his fangs are marauding, his mouth is tender, where his claws lacerate, his touch is doting, where he moves inside her like a restless captive, he sings in the hollows of submission.

And again, she dies a little more in his poison. No other poison is tastier. She feels the breadth of her life shrink in his hand, her decree limit, her heart fragmentize and swallowed by him. He suppresses her until she submerges into the little emptiness that she is alone in her memories. He suckles her visions, assimilates inside her bones and the animal in her chest. Today she feels him imbedded inside her caves and trenches, creeping closer to the ribs of her soul. Her gaze wavers and seeps his perspiring visage.

And now, his broken lips straighten and turn up. They are long and soft to look at but on her body they fester into fire. His long curls flutter around his neck and shoulders, crinkled between her fingers. He takes his time but she is ready to come again. His torso wedged between her knees is ruined with scars. In one look they also dodge and become shadows. She runs curious fingers on the residuum. His eyes shiver as he anchors his claws on her hips. Her tongue traces the falling scar on his eyelid, a sure attempt to heal remnants of sequestered pain.

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><p>And now, healed from the inside, his gaze softens and her heart gnaws in remorse. He brushes his beautiful mouth on hers and counts the seconds until she shatters out of her dying self and revives again in his arms. She explodes violently, her claws reopening scratch marks on his sacrum. He watches the vibes of emotion in her subside. There is calmness about his madness that draws her in.<p>

And now, he lies against her and it is all that's left for him in the world. His blue-red eyes goads content, spilling it over her face. She loses the passages of her thoughts as she looks back directly. His scars exhorted from the bone are corroded, and his hands whisper candidly to hers in its clench. She remembers in the fog of childhood he'd gather her in darkness and guide her where she wanted. Lowering on his loins, she begs for him between his thighs with her mouth. His hiss falls into laughter, and laughter but all but laughter are his words.

And now, he comes freely for her just as she wants. His curly hair clings to her, seeking her fiery warmth. She watches him unfurl underneath her. Years of pushing and running from him between serving and claiming him scorch her spine. His broken lips well up in a grin in the scent of her memories. A challenge flickers in his rivaling colored eyes. She memorizes the mockery that is there.

"You will never run from me."

She rides him briskly. Control an insipid license and plunges her claws in his chest to instill the harassing harshness of spilt blood in their lives. Her bloody claws ensnare his thick hair. He may have eliminated any elements of virtuousness in their family, for the death of Haruka. He may have bequeathed sanity, and she may have just been the kernel of his maddening descent. Then it was her punishment for making him insane. He reciprocates impatiently, she makes him do it. He fills her starkly, which causes her to struggle with her-self—at the pure completeness she'd been pining for and no one could perfect.

She will never run from him... will never, never run again.

And now, he trembles and heaves, his body glistening from her heat. The colors of his eyes pitch to darkness but all she sees is the blankness of his yearning soul. His soft mouth opens.

"Ju...Ri..." He moans and comes.

She kisses him savagely. For now, the difference between unable to run and being able to run is she did not want to run. That is now, and now is current, and he is here because she is.

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><p><strong>© Nur Misurr • Read &amp; Review • Thank you.<strong>


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